23ji no ongaku
by pengiechan
Summary: Songs for the eleventh hour. Blade Children centric drabbles, various pairings, manga based with spoilers. Complete.
1. five shades of white

"23ji no ongaku," or "songs for the 23rd hour," is a collection of Blade Children-centric drabbles and stories. These pieces mainly follow the manga, but are in no sequential order and follow no storyline. They are miscellaneous items I have written over the course of nearly four years, and collected together under this title. Pairings are mainly canon, although there may be hints of silly things aside from that.

Read, enjoy, and leave feedback as you like. Thanks for your attention!

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**23ji no ongaku**  
opening act: five shades of white

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They were there, at his wedding, and he realized it only when he grew bored with the rambles of the pastor, tilting his head just enough so that he could see those who sat at the back of this tiny chapel - and it was there they stood, all in a neat little row, dressed in shades of white.

Rio was the first, and she wore the dress of a little girl (something she could really not be - no, she had witnessed too much to really be a little girl anymore) in a blinding, innocent white. One of her hands lay absently on the frills of her skirt and the other was grasped in Kousuke's, who stood beside her, his new glasses falling down his nose. He wore a suit that looked used and thus was not so white, and his brightly colored hair stood out like a flame on a candle. Beside him, in the middle, was Ryouko, scrawniest and somehow the prettiest, seeming awkward in a long cream dress that had probably been designed for a bridesmaid. She was as tall as the other two boys, taller than Kousuke by at least three inches, and somehow it seemed an obvious fact that frills and lace (what Rio had opted for) would not have worked with her. Eyes lingered by her side and kept his attention on the floor, his blueish locks of hair covering much of his face. His suit looked new and expensive, the only proper choice of dress for this ceremony - but only Eyes would be able to afford a new suit, after all, and so that had to be considered.

Kanone stood on the end, and Kiyotaka's gaze remained fixed on him for just a moment too long, long enough to be noticed. The German's lips slowly eased themselves into a smile, the kind of expression that the older man was familiar with and did not like seeing. Kanone's suit was the darkest of them all, not even a white but perhaps more tan, and for a moment Kiyotaka wondered to himself what this meant - this dark person among a sea of innocence - but convinced himself that it was only a shadow and looked away just as the ceremony began to make movement in the right direction. He did not have time to think about it now, because he was getting married and they were only watching.

When he and his wife proceeded down the aisle they were gone, but even that could not erase the image of those five children lined up together, all in white (or four in white and one in shadow), all watching without speaking a word. He wondered why they had come, but then Madoka smiled at him and he thought of it no more. He would think of it later and wonder if it was an omen.


	2. the cruelest month

His mother died in March. He normally did not agree with the idea of attaching himself emotionally to any one month, day, or event - he often did not celebrate even his birthday - but regardless of the strength of his ideals, March was never a pleasant month. March, each year, became filled with small pains, with unwanted memories and coincidental (yet still ill-timed) events that left him howling inside, wanting to cry out but not knowing how. He had not been taught how to cry and so things remained bottled within him.

He began believing in February that he would no longer allow himself to become so miserable in March, that his emotions could be controlled and withheld and kept only to himself. He had fully expected problems in March, but had not expected all that had actually happened, and had not expected the departure of yet another person from his life.

Kanone left in March. He stood and watched the plane depart and clutched a seashell - a small, stupid fragment of a life once lived, something which had once been his - in his fist. He watched and knew that there was no longer avoiding the pain of this month, that it would continue to be forever cruel to him, even if situations changed and a year later Kanone came running back. No amount of resolve could possibly heal the pain of someone who did not even know how to scream. 


	3. four rings of light on the ceiling

"He's gone."

Ryouko speaks for everyone, as always, her words direct and unafraid. Kousuke glances up from his spot on the couch beside her, and at first his eyes swim with confusion, but then he nods, almost imperceptibly, and looks away. Rio is curled up on the floor, and she sighs, softly, her pigtails drooping over her shoulders. And on the lone chair, Eyes Rutherford stares blankly ahead, the words touching him softly and then departing. He has already grieved, already made his peace. The mixed feeling of relief and profound loss (even now they love him, even now it is like losing a brother) is new to them.

"Hizumi?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't..." Kousuke's voice is tinted with rage but the emotion fades almost as quickly as it begins. "No. We didn't need to know about... that."

"It was not our concern." Eyes presses a palm to his forehead, milky white hair spilling through his hands. "Until now."

"Was it... quick?" Rio sounds afraid. "Did he pass peacefully?"

The pianist wishes he could say yes. He cannot, so he says nothing.

Kousuke slides forward, his broken leg dragging on the hardwood floor - the sound of it reminds them all who is responsible for these injuries anyway, who they are grieving regardless of that painful fact - and lifts a water glass from the coffee table. The sun is setting in the windows of Eyes' apartment, and Ryouko turns her face up to the high ceiling of the living room, looking at the light that glints off the their untouched glasses of water. There are three of them - no, four, she corrects herself, as Kousuke puts his glass down beside hers - and the image strikes her so profoundly that she buries her face in her hands and pretends not to cry.

"There were always five," Rio murmurs, and sighs again. Kousuke is too busy consoling Ryouko to reply, and Eyes stares blankly at the ceiling, wondering what heaven is like.


	4. everything you ever wished for

She sits quietly on the armchair in the corner, curled up like a cat on the thick cushion, legs tucked securely beneath her. Her eyes are distant; she is thinking of things not in the present time and place, her mind wandering far away. For a girl who seems so grounded, this is an unusual sight - and indeed, Takeuchi Rio does not often daydream (or even dream at all). The very idea of making up an impossible scenario just seems to add to her misery, but...

Every now and then she can't help but hold a little hope in her heart. She knows death well, knows that one day it will come to wrap its cold hands around her neck. She knows that there is no future for her, but still she hopes, sometimes - still she wishes for impossible things, sits curled in this plush chair and thinks about what things would be like if she wasn't... different.

She doesn't ask for much. She has been hurt before, badly, and cannot ask anyone for anything. But still she hopes. She longs for a gift from someone precious, a smile or a soft pat on the head. She wants to be told that she has done well. They are very simple desires, and still she feels selfish for thinking about them. Still she feels as if it is wrong to hope for these things, as if...

Rio closes her eyes and sinks deeper into the cushions, sighing softly, and a smile spreads across her lips. In the center of the room, Eyes Rutherford is playing a waltz. His hands move fluidly across the keys of his grand piano, and as he spins out a carefully composed tune he is unaware of the heart slowly mending in the corner. 


	5. effect of impact on stationary objects

"Kousuke-kun!"

"Gyahh - AHHH!"

Eyes turns his head in time to see a tall redhead and a pigtailed girl go crashing to the floor. Kousuke groans as his back meets the floor, much to the amusement of the little girl who is clinging to his waist, her gray eyes bright. "It's been a long time!" she chirps, apparently unaware of the pain the boy is experiencing. "You're really tall now!"

"Nnngh, Rio..."

"When did you get glasses, Kousuke-kun? Are your eyes bad?"

"Rio." Kousuke takes the gray-haired girl by the collar, lifting her effortlessly into the air with one hand. "Off."

"Oh - oh, mou..."

They both get to their feet, one towering high over the other, and Kousuke glances to his right just in time to see a light smiles on the faces of the white-haired pianist and his German friend. "Stop laughing!" the redhead yells, and pushes his glasses up on his nose. "It isn't funny!"

"My, but you really have grown..."

"Be quiet, Kanone!"

Rio reaches up and wraps her arms around Kousuke's waist, beaming happily at no one in particular. "Kousuke-kun is growing up," she sings, and giggles as her friend's face quickly changes color to match his hair. 


	6. and yes the way you look at me

"And the way you look at me sometimes, smiling just a little, just enough so I know that you don't really hate me... and so I know that I did something right for once, like fetching you bread or bringing you a towel after practice."

Kousuke was not particularly good at making lists.

"And... the way you pretend to be annoyed by little things, the way you pretend to hate the fact that I'm taller than you even though I know you like it - it makes it easier for me to kiss you, right? And the way you make me kiss you... because that tells me that you really do feel something for me, and I know you want these things as much as I do..."

He was very good at rambling in an incomprehensible manner.

Luckily for him, Ryouko could make sense of his ramblings, and after sorting them out, found herself actually rather fond of what he said.

"You can stop."

"What?"

"You can stop," she repeated, gently, lacing her thin arms around his neck and standing on tiptoe (because he was, after all, taller than her, and she did like it, although she would not dare admit to this fact). "I didn't really want to know what makes you feel this way. I just... wanted to know that you felt it."

He blinked and his eyelashes brushed against hers, his glasses falling to the floor of his bedroom with two tiny clinks and a clatter. Neither moved to retrieve them; instead they shared a number of kisses, some soft, some hard. When they parted, Ryouko smiled and looked at him, and Kousuke laughed, gathering his words. "Like that."

"You really like the way I look at you?"

"Yes."

"Even when I'm angry?"

"It's all the same," he said, and even if it was a lie it really didn't matter.


	7. snow falling on corpses

"Hello, Mother."

English is harder for him to speak with each passing year - he is falling out of practice. Eyes kneels in front of a tombstone and brushes away the snow with one gloved hand, the other gently placing a bouquet of roses (white, as always, her favorite) on the powder-covered grass. It is December and England is freezing - no surprise. He has not been here for at least a year, caught up in the endless cycle of piano recitals, attempts on his life, and keeping the other Blade Children in line.

He has missed her, as always.

Eyes does not speak to his mother's grave - he does not fool himself with ideas of her being able to "hear" him, nor does he fancy the thought that she is watching him from some heavenly vantage point, always smiling and approving of him. Surely she would not approve of his murderous intentions, and the way that he has fought for his life. Surely she would not approve of his lifestyle, would only chide him for not playing the piano enough and go back to whichever post-life location she has been occupying.

Instead of speaking to her grave, he simply places a dozen rozes on the snow, wipes clean her tombstone, and kneels there, quietly, for a moment. He has done this as often as possible, always alone; he does not seem to believe in grief and sadness, but at the very least considers there to be some importance in honoring the memory of his mother.

A small part of him may resent her, but he does - genuinely - miss her.

"Raza-kun."

He sighs, rising to his feet. "Yes?"

"We have a flight to catch." Kirie is even less practiced in her English than him, and she has probably forgotten, after a week in England, that he is able to understand her native tongue. "So if you're done..."

"No."

He expects a growl and a nasty remark, but it never comes. After a moment the Watcher is standing beside him, a lit cigarette burning slowly away in her mouth, her pink hair tossed about by the snow and the wind. "How ol - " She realizes what she is doing and switches back to Japanese, clearing her throat. "How old were you when she died?"

"Seven."

"Most of the others didn't have parents that long."

"I know." He reads the text on his mother's gravestone, as he has done dozens of times before, the words burning themselves back into his memory. Beloved mother, cherished friend... He wishes to add many things to that, none of them good. He misses her, but he cannot help but hate what she was, what she did. "Perhaps that was for the better."

"They might disagree."

"They might."

Kirie blows a ring of smoke into the air. "Whenever you're ready to go..."

He turns his back on the grave, abruptly. "I'm ready."

"Sure? We have a few - "

"Yes."

They walk together out of the tiny graveyard, towards his waiting car, and Eyes doesn't look back.


	8. the blind leading the blind

"Are we lost?"

"Probably."

"How can you say that so casually?"

Eyes doesn't answer, simply pushes a tree branch out of his path. Kousuke finally stops panting, glancing up at the darkening sky before shooting the white-haired teen a deadly glare. "I don't know why I ever came back to this place. It's swimming with Hunters. We might as well just sit down and wait for them to find us."

"If they could."

"Wha - ?"

"If they could find us." Eyes' boots crunch on leaves and sticks as he takes a turn away from the path, his icy eyes surveying the area for any sign of their pursuers. _An ambush_, he thinks, and shakes his head almost imperceptively._ I should have expected it. This place isn't safe anymore._ "They might be lost, too."

"Stop being so fucking casual about - arrgh!"

"There's no need to use such foul language."

"_Screw you_." Kousuke has learned a little English, and he uses it to his advantage now. He shoves his glasses up on his nose and stomps heavily on the ground, shoving his hands into the pockets of a pair of too-big cargo pants. "I don't even have a knife on me," he spits, switching back to Japanese. "If those bastards manage to find us out here, we're done for. I should have never listened to you."

Eyes looks over his shoulder, warily. "You have no trust in me, Asazuki?"

"Not a damn bit."

"I see."

"... the fuck do you _mean_, "I see"? You - "

There is a gunshot from somewhere that is uncomfortably close. Both teens drop flat to the forest floor and lie there, unmoving, maybe not even breathing. Eyes scans the forest the best he can, thinking slowly about the sound of the gunshot, and remembers that it is hunting season in this area. _Deer_, he thinks, and would snort if he wasn't in danger of being found by someone with a gun. _Either we'll be shot by Hunters, or mistaken for deer._

"Rutherford," Kousuke hisses, "you better damn well have a plan."

"Be quiet."

The redhead, surprisingly, obeys. Eyes is silent, his mind working rapidly now, and finally he rises to one knee, swallowing. "There are hunters - game hunters - in this area. That was the sound of a rifle."

"Oh. I'm impressed." Kousuke jumps to his feet, and Eyes is suddenly struck with the urge to slap him. _Doesn't he know **anything**?_ "You didn't strike me as the type to play with guns," the redhead continues, glancing around, "but I guess you're bound to surprise me every now and then."

Eyes stands, looking evenly at his companion. "Let's go."

"... go? Where?"

He looks into the forest, up into the trees, up past the branches into the darkening sky, and knows he doesn't have an answer. But they have no choice but to struggle on together through these woods, the blind leading the blind, trying to find a way out before they are caught or killed.

A grim expression - it may even be a smile - touches Eyes' mouth as he realizes how closely this singular situation resembles their lives.

"Rutherford?"

He walks on, and Kousuke follows.

"We really are lost, aren't we?"

"Yes."

Kousuke remembers his English again. "_Shit_."


	9. four twelves are fourty eight

"Kousuke-kun~"

"What is it now?"

"Help me with my homework?"

Kousuke looked over the top of the glasses that were too big for his face, narrowing his eyes at the gray-haired girl across the room. "Rio," he said calmly - as calmly as he could, under the circumstances - "you just blew another hole in Ryouko's floor. If she comes home and sees us looking at books instead of cleaning up your mess - "

Rio sat up on the couch, turned around, and aimed wide, watery eyes in the direction of the redhead. "But I'm failing math..."

"HOW ARE YOU FAILING WHEN YOU AREN'T EVEN IN SCHOOL?"

Her eyes widened and brimmed with tears. "Kanone-kun is keeping track of my learning, and if I go back to Germany next week without learning my multiplication..."

"Learn it on your own!"

"Hauuuu~ Kousuke-kuuuun..."

"Seriously... When you pull innocent faces like that..." He set aside the broom that he had been sweeping with, stepping over the (very full) dustpan on the way to the couch. "Aren't you a little old to still be learning multiplication?"

She stuck out her tongue, turning her head back to the thick book in her lap. "I've been in and out of school so often that I sometimes forget things... or miss things..."

Kousuke shrugged. "Well, not knowing math... I guess that would explain why you can't make an explosive that doesn't destroy everything in sight."

"Ehe..." She winked. "That may be it."

"So, how am I supposed to help?" He leaned over the back of the couch, peering at the textbook in her lap, then squinting through his glasses. He really needed another pair - these were new, courtesy of the always-thoughtful Kiyotaka, but just weren't fitting right. He'd "grow into them," as the older man had said, chuckling, but still... it'd help if he was able to see what he was doing.

"Quiz me on my multiplication tables." Rio handed over the book without hesitation, turning around on the couch to face him. "That shouldn't be hard, right?"

He groaned. "Alright..."

They were still working twenty minutes later, sitting face-to-face on the couch with the textbook between them, when the front door opened and Ryouko stepped inside. They didn't notice her at first, but the sound of a heavy sigh brought their attention to the girl standing in the kitchen. "Another accident?" she asked, shaking her head at the hole in the wood. "My aunt is never going to believe this..."

"H - hey, we'll get it fixed..."

The brunette seemed to ignore this, instead looking at Rio on the couch. "What are you two doing?" she questioned, lifting an eyebrow. "Homework?"

"Exactly!" Rio smiled her widest smile, her pigtails bouncing as she nodded. "Kanone-kun's going to quiz me on my math when I go back to Germany, and Kousuke-kun's been helping me learn. He's a good teacher~"

"Math, huh." Ryouko walked over to them, her eyes fixed on the redhead. "Well, then. What's twelve times four?"

"Fourty-eight."

"Ten times nine?"

"Ninety."

"One hundred times eighty-five?"

Kousuke's head snapped towards Rio in alarm, but the gray-haired girl answered without hesitation. "Eighty-five hundred."

"The square root of pi?"

"O - oi, Ryouko, she definitely - "

"I think it's... one... and..." Rio rambled off a series of digits, speaking so fast that neither of the other Blade Children could follow her. In the ensuring pause, she giggled, jumping up from the couch. "See, Kousuke-kun? You are a good teacher."

"... ah."

"I'm going to call Kanone-kun," she sang, and practically danced out of the kitchen. "He'll be so proud of me~"

Kousuke watched her go, blinking slowly, then rubbed his forehead. "I wonder if she even needed my help..."

"She's smarter than she looks." Ryouko leaned against the back of the couch, letting out a low chuckle. "And more dangerous."

The redhead looked over his shoulder, hesitating. "Ryouko... about your floor... I - "

"Worry about it later." She sighed. "It's a pain, but... for you to take responsibility for that girl... I'm impressed." She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing gently, then quickly pulled away. "You had more important things to do than worry about my house."

He felt his face redden. "I guess I did."

And from the hallway, Takeuchi Rio smiled at yet another plan executed perfectly.


	10. one true thing

The Blade Children did not have a lot of things they could be sure about. What most people considered universal truths did not apply to them. There was no salvation, no everlasting love, no forgiveness promised for even accidental sins. By their creators they were not considered human, and so their creators had judged them to be devoid of all regularly-established human rights. They could only cling to each other and find their truths elsewhere.

They all found things they could absorb themselves in, things that became their own personal truths. Eyes played the piano and Rio made explosives. Kousuke, in his younger years, buried himself in schoolwork. Ryouko did not find that she had any special ability until after she had left them all, until she had already decided for herself what it was she thought was true, and so running was not what she fell back on. Running was not her salvation.

But Kousuke was. And that was what made her time without him - without any of them - so hard. Her truth was gone. But the one true thing she knew was that he would always be there, in the shadows somewhere. One day he would come back to her just as he had left, with a stupid grin on his face and a knife hidden in one of his pockets. 


	11. your pretty blue eyes are stained glass

"Ryouko. In here."

"A church, of all places..."

Eyes slams the double doors and slides the heavy deadbolt across, nodding ever-so-slightly as his companion appears with a heavy wooden chair in each arm. "This won't hold them for long," she says, and her eyes dart around the chapel, taking in what is both a grim and mildly amusing situation. "There are other ways to get in."

"Of course." The pale-haired man looks evenly at the brunette, who has already wedged the high backs of the chairs beneath the deadbolt. "But any time earned is better than no time."

They crouch there on the floor of the church and reload their weapons. Ryouko's eyes still dart around nervously, as if she expects their pursuers to come crashing into the room at any moment. But they are lucky, this time: the chapel's stained glass windows are several meters from the ground, and the only entrance to this tiny Catholic church (excluding the one on the roof, which is completely out of the question) is through the thick wooden doors that they have bolted, locked, and barred shut. And if it is too much trouble, the brunette thinks, they may not even come in after all...

"I thought," Ryouko begins, licking her dry lips, "this was over with."

"Not yet." Eyes is reloading a small pistol, one kept hidden in his sleeve. Two other weapons are already resting on the hardwood floor, colored sunlight dancing through the windows and gleaming off their plastic and metal bodies. "Others have decided to continue the hunt."

"There are still more, eh..."

"A few." He lifts his eyes to hers. "This is why I asked you to be prepared."

Ryouko snorts as she stands, shouldering a rifle. "I leave the weapon carrying to Kousuke. That's all he's really good for."

"You would rather be killed than be able to defend - "

"I told you already, Rutherford," she interrupts, and the look she shoots over her shoulder at him is venomous. "I won't kill."

They walk up the center of the pews, advancing slowly towards the wooden altar, listening intently for the first strains of creaking wood. The sun is shining bright through the windows on the west side of the church, the colored glass painting the wooden floor a number of different colors. Ryouko tips her head to the side, squinting at the images of the men and women in the center of the glass. "What kind of people are these?" she asks, frowning.

"The Virgin Mary," Eyes murmurs, looking from one window to the other, "Jesus Christ, John the Baptist, Judas - " His voice catches. " - Iscariot - "

"Oh. The Bible." The brunette stops at the end of a pew, looking up at a wide glass window. "Stupid stories."

Eyes makes a sound that is either a grunt or a chuckle. "There are some who hold a great deal of faith in these stories."

"And for what?" She leans against the wooden seat. "It's the same as us. Unless they find their saviour, they're going to hell. Isn't that it?"

"Not quite."

"Hmm." She closes her eyes. "That's how it always sounded to me."

Eyes moves up to the altar, his arms dropping to his side, a gun dangling from each hand (and another in his sleeve). For the first time he notices the blood spattered on the shoulder of his coat and the tear in his pants. He glances over his shoulder and sees that his companion's school uniform is ripped and dirty, and that there is an angry red mark on her collarbone. They have been lucky, so far, and there are no sounds from outside, but -

"Do you believe in those things?"

He looks evenly at Ryouko, who has opened her eyes and is all but examining him. "Things...?"

"God, Jesus, all that." She remains leaning against the solid wood of the pew, a rifle in one hand, but turns her head now to look at the stained glass windows over her slender shoulder. "Do you believe in God - any god?"

Eyes hasn't considered this in a while. In the scramble for his life which has lasted for several long years, he has all but forgotten to think about the religious beliefs implanted within him as a child. At one time, he would have willingly answered her, but now... He raises his eyes to the large panel above the altar, gazing quietly at the image of Jesus Christ with a lamb in his arms, and isn't sure what to say.

"I have a hard time believing that a just god would allow these things to happen to us." Ryouko seems to sense his hesitation. She returns to looking at him, her expression now blank. "A just god wouldn't have allowed the Blade Children to be created."

He frowns - he can't help himself. "Many people of the faith believe that everything happens for a reason. Our creation had a purpose, in the eyes of - "

"Bullshit." Ryouko's fist collides with the top of a pew, the angry sound of flesh on wood echoing throughout the chapel. "We have suffered from the moment we were brought into this world. We still can't rest, what with all these Hunters popping up out of nowhere. Why would someone bother creating us if we were just going to be killed right away?"

The pale-haired man is staring at the guns in his hands. "That is the mystery."

"You're no help, Rutherford." The brunette snorts. "What if you shot me, right here and now? Would that be part of God's plan?"

He looks at her wryly. "Only if God's wish were that Asazuki were to murder me immediately afterwards."

"Very funny."

"Hm." His guns disappear back into his sleeves. "He would."

She ignores him, her attention turning back to the stained glass windows. It is eerily quiet inside the church; the door is still intact and no Hunters have tried to enter through the roof. Eyes wonders if they have given up, but knows better than to make an assumption like that. They could be reforming, planning a new strategy. Or perhaps they had found the other two Blade Children...

"I never liked religion."

Eyes is unsurprised. He looks at the brunette and waits. He can tell she isn't done.

"It's like that saying. A wolf in sheep's clothing." Her voice is softer now, gentle, but there's still a hint of anger behind the words. "It looks beautiful on the outside, promises you everything you could want..." She motions with her gun to the stained glass windows. "But on the inside, it's rotten. It eats people up."

"That may be the truth."

"There are people like that, too." Ryouko turns on her heel and faces him with narrowed eyes. "Beautiful on the outside, rotten on the inside. Not even stained glass could hide the ugliness."

They stare at each other, unmoving, and the pianist wonders if she's talking about him.

Then there's a crash in a room behind the chapel and none of it matters anymore.

"Kousuke-kun... be more careful..."

"Shut up, Rio! I know!"

Eyes and Ryouko sigh and lower their weapons, visibly relaxing at the sight of a very familiar redhead sprawled out on the floor of the tiny church's hallway. Rio jumps gracefully through an opening in the roof to land, almost catlike, at Kousuke's feet, a tiny small marking her features as she catches sight of the two Blade Children standing nearby. "We're here to rescue you~!"

"We didn't need rescued." Ryouko reshoulders her gun, a grin toying with her mouth. "But thanks for trying."

"Ryouko, as soon as I can get up, so help me God I'll make you eat those words..."

"What, did you break something?" She wanders over to where her childhood friend is wincing on the floor, the grin on her face only growing wider. "You shouldn't be so clumsy."

As they begin their usual banter, Rio moves to stand beside Eyes, barely sparing a glance at the pistol in his hand. "They left," she remarks, referring to the Hunters. "Tsuchiya-san came and chased them away."

Eyes can't help but snort. "That woman..."

"She's good for some things." The gray-haired girl shrugs, then steps forward to look around the church. She immediately shivers, visibly, and closes her eyes. "It's scary in here. I don't like it."

He looks down at her, then at the stained glass window of Judas Iscariot, and is inclined to agree.


	12. wake unto me

He slips into her room when a nurse's back is turned, quiet and nimble as a cat, the door shutting silently behind him. The room is all but noiseless, the stillness of this autumn afternoon broken only by the occasional beep from a heart monitor. In this room's single bed lies a sleeping girl, pale and still, looking so near death that the occasional beeps of life may come as a surprise to her unexpected visitor. But this girl, this dark-haired killer, still sleeps with the hope - or is it the risk? - of waking, still lives without moving from her nest of starched white sheets.

Kanone stands at the foot of Charlotte's bed and smiles grimly. This pose - dry lips pressed together, hands folded neatly behind his back - will become a signature of his in his later years, when he turns from the others and thinks of himself as a hunter instead of prey. But at this moment, his mind is troubled and loyalties strained, and his appearance at the end of a sleeping girl's bed remains a foreshadowing of his difficult future.

Ryouko and Rio have told him everything. And while he trains them to fight, to defend their lives, he still cannot help but look at this so-called "reluctant killer" and wonder if her thoughts, her intentions... perhaps they were truer than his. Perhaps... she was right.

He wonders if the Blade Children should be killed. He wonders, sometimes, what will happen if they do reach the age of 20, if the "switch" is flipped, if their murderous blood awakes and they lose all control of their bodies and minds. Are they bound to die? Or will they kill others? Will they purify the world, or simply lose their own lives in a hail of bullets?

He stands at Charlotte's bed and wonders what there is to dream about.

"Wake up," he murmurs, and feels it is futile. If she does return to life... what will there be for her to return to? What is there for any of them to find, if they continue this struggle? Will they live, or die? Will they find hope to defeat these internal demons, or are they bound to a fate that is irreversible and unrelenting?

Kanone feels, somehow, that if anyone is bound to understand his thoughts... it will be this girl. He craves, for a moment, to have her by his side. There is a painful loneliness that strikes him at times, and he feels that having this person beside him would somehow... perhaps... fill a little of that void. This girl who has killed, known the felt of blood on her hands; this girl who has experienced the same loss and prevailing sadness that accompanies existing as one of the "cursed children"...

"It's time to wake up, Charlotte."

But she does not stir, and he decides to leave. It is futile. He wonders, as he slips back into the hallway of the quiet hospital, if it is _all_ futile.

Perhaps she should stay asleep.


	13. dreams of the impossible

On a balmy night in the middle of summer, as three of the Blade Children sit in the grass outside of Ryouko's house, Rio asks an unexpected question: _what do you want to be when you get older?_

It's a silly question, for them, and Rio knows it. They don't know if they will survive past high school graduations, or grow old enough to even consider a career. But regardless of these worries, these ever-present doubts, Kousuke answers.

"I think I'd like to be a doctor."

"A _what_?"

"I'll never go to _that_ hospital."

He looks at his companions - especially Rio - with disdain. "You asked."

"I thought you'd say something more realistic."

"That isn't realistic? I've broken enough bones to know how to set them, and it's not like the sight of blood bothers me."

Ryouko sighs and rips a handful of grass from the ground, tossing it over her shoulder into the redhead's face. "Stupid. You just want a chance to pick people apart."

"Huh..." He narrows his eyes at her. "Maybe I'd actually like to help people. I know I'd be good at it."

"Maybe..." Rio feels thoughtful. "Kousuke-kun does know quite a bit about injuries, after all." She pauses. "But I still wouldn't want him as my doctor."

"Suit yourself..."

"I think," the pigtailed girl continues suddenly, her eyes brightening, "I'd like to make explosives."

Ryouko snorts. "That's no surprise."

"You know, there are lots of military jobs for that kind of thing." Kousuke picks blades of grass out of his spiky hair, sneezing loudly before proceeding with his next sentence. "I'm sure there's an army or two out there that would love to have you on their side, as long as you didn't scare them off first..."

"Really?"

"Why not?" He grins. "Just don't blow them up at your job interview and you'll be set."

"Hmmm..." Rio purses her lips, giving this idea serious thought. After a moment she turns her attention to Ryouko, who is sitting silent, now, looking up at the starry sky. "Ryouko-chan?" she ventures, cautiously. "What about you?"

Ryouko shrugs. "Maybe I'll run."

"People say that Ryouko-chan could go to the Olympics someday." Rio smiles, sweetly, at her friend. "I believe it, too..."

"It's not something I can get my hopes up for, though." The brunette's voice is low. "If something happens... what would be the use of dreaming?"

"Don't dream about it, then." Kousuke speaks up from behind her. "Instead, believe that you're going to be a housewife with lots of children."

She whirls around, fixing him with a murderous glare. "What is that supposed to - "

He grins, leaning forward to pat her on the head. "Better to dream than to resign yourself to that kind of fate, right?"

"... idiot." She ducks away from his hand. "Don't say things like that. It doesn't sound right."

Rio giggles. "Ryouko-chan thought you were proposing, Kousuke-kun..."

"I did not!"

"I wasn't!"

Ryouko and Kousuke look at each other, blush, and turn away to look elsewhere. Rio giggles again, her voice melodic, and sprawls out in the grass. "Ryouko-chan will never be a housewife, but I don't think that's what Kousuke-kun wants for her, anyway..."

Their voices are in unison this time. "Shut up, Rio!"

She only smiles and closes her eyes, feeling the cool summer air on her face. Something Kousuke has said - _better to dream than to resign yourself to that kind of fate_ - sparks hope within her, just a little bit of hope, enough to stir her cold heart and set her mind wandering down a new path. If they do survive, if they do make it... well, she really would like to make explosives. It would be fun.

And as for her friends... She opens one eye to peek at Kousuke and Ryouko, who are still refusing to look at each other, and laughs to herself. Maybe there's one more dream that she has, one more dream that is just a little less selfish... but who knows how long it will take for_ that_ one to come true.


	14. a dark heart beating

He was torn and he was bleeding but he was still alive. His heart was still beating and he was still tearing breaths, however ragged, from the air in even intervals. He was alive.

Something swelled within him and even in his state of half-consciousness he laughed. He was _alive_.

It wouldn't last long. He'd been shot - ruthlessly, he thought, but what more did he deserve? This was justice in action, his death a reward for those he'd just as easily shot or stabbed or flung out of high school windows. His mind was cloudy but he could even think of the others now, of Narumi Kiyotaka, of Narumi Ayumu...

Yes. His hope. This was _his_ hope. His death would be sweet for the boy. No more killings, no more whispers of murder in the ears of the Blade Children. If he could survive Hizumi...

(His heart was slowing and he felt a twinge of annoyance at the sluggishness of his thoughts. Not yet, not yet, _not yet_ - )

... if he could survive Hizumi, he could survive anything. He could save them. If anything could save them, if anything could prevent the death and despair and eternal darkness that awaited the others (and it was a shame; Eyes especially was special to him, the person he had loved the most), it would be the Narumi Ayumu. He would be the one strong enough to kill Mizushiro Hizumi.

An alarm sounded somewhere in the distance and he laughed again, so weakly that the sound was barely a cough. They would come, now, and find him bleeding on the floor, shot to death by a cat-eyed teenager -

But it was beautiful, so beautiful to be massacred in this hail of bullets and widsom, to be shot down by the hopes and dreams of another without a fight. He had always wanted to die this way. It needed to be ended like this.

What was hope? Was there really such a thing?

He expired on that thought, his body frozen in the pool of blood and a smile painted on his lips.

If there was hope, surely _he_ would find it.


	15. the smell of hospitals in winter

The first time they see him, he lies still and silent and unmoving in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm. Rio has grown accustomed to such sights, and there is no sight of the wound on his chest (_Kanone_, a voice chants in her head, _Kanone, Kanone, **Kanone** did this_), but she still bows her head and cries. She can't help herself.

"Rio..."

"Get back, Kousuke-kun." She feels the redhead moving towards her and steps quickly away, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders. "Don't come any closer."

"... geez." His shoes click against the floor as he takes a step back. "Was just worried..."

For a long time there is silence broken only by Rio's occasional sniffs. She feels Kousuke and Ryouko behind her, hears the quiet beeps of a heart monitor across the room and the shuffle of nurses, doctors, and visitors in the hallway. Her mind is cloudy; she is sad, but she is angry, too. Something within her feels torn and jagged, as if Kanone (_Kanone_) himself took a knife and scratched it across the surface of her soul.

"Why?" she asks, and it is both a question to no one and to everyone present. "Why would he...?"

Ryouko sighs. "He is a Hunter..."

"So he says." Kousuke still sounds irritated, as he has from the moment the news reached them. It's as if this entire scenario is an inconvenience to him... or maybe, just maybe, he knows what must happen next and is annoyed by it. "Or he's just fallen into that bastard's plan..."

Rio closes her eyes and fights back a sob.

She stands there for a while, feeling various parts of her body begin to throb, and Kousuke seems to sense her discomfort. "Hey," he says, quietly, "we should get you back to your room. You aren't supposed to be out of bed yet."

Ryouko chuckles weakly. "And those nurses are going to kill us if they find out we snuck you out..."

"Fine," Rio replies, and turns to find her wheelchair. She has seen enough.

They leave the hospital room, traveling slowly together towards the elevator. Discomfort and uncertainty swirl in the gray-haired girl's heart; she folds her hands tightly together in her lap as Kousuke pushes her wheelchair down the hallway, Ryouko pacing quietly behind them. She hates this floor, the intensive care unit. She has spent too much time here, and dreads the day she will return. She dreads knowing that she may one day arrive, only to leave in a body bag. To her, this floor smells of death. _Her_ death. The death of everyone she knows and loves.

The elevator opens its doors for them, and as they enter, Rio bows her head and cries again.


	16. so shaken as we are

"She tried to kill herself."

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow is her birthday."

They stare at Rio's prone figure through the glass wall, hands linked and lips drawn in thin, pale lines. Eyes still has her blood on his hands; Ryouko's face is streaked with tears. Beside her, Narumi Ayumu leans on his crutches, and a girl with pigtails stands faithfully by his side.

It is almost like old times.

Kousuke has to turn his eyes away from the scene: the nurses are coming in to change her bandages. He has never seen his little sister naked and doesn't feel the need now, especially when there is a gaping hole in her chest.

"I thought she was happy..."

The redhead looks over his shoulder at the pigtailed girl, who he guesses is still going by the name of "Hiyono" for the sake of simplicity, and can do nothing but shrug helplessly. "She was. But Yaiba's blood doesn't give us a choice."

"_You_ survived."

"Barely," Ryouko reminds Ayumu, and Kousuke can feel her fingers on his still-bandaged wrist as she moves to stand beside him. "If I hadn't been there, he'd be gone."

"Ah."

"Perhaps that's why Rio called me," Eyes murmurs. "She knew. She wanted to be saved."

"It was a bomb?"

"Yes."

The hallway of the intensive care unit falls silent. Kousuke finds a chair and sits down, carefully keeping his eyes away from the glass wall that separates them from Takeuchi Rio's bed. They have all been here before, too many times - Rio especially. They have dreaded these days, days that have left their souls torn and bleeding, clouded their minds and caused them to act foolishly. He barely remembers the events that led to his own recent hospital stay, only remembers Ryouko saving him, and waking up the next morning to bandages on his wrist and a brunette sobbing by his bedside. And now Rio...

_Yaiba's blood doesn't give us a choice_, he thinks again, and closes his eyes as Ryouko's arms slip around his shoulders. _As much as we hoped..._

"You two." Ayumu's voice interrupts the quiet of the hallway, and when Kousuke opens his eyes, he sees that the young man on crutches is looking from Eyes to Ryouko. "Don't be discouraged by this."

"What you're saying is impossible... We've already seen too much - "

"Neither of you should be influenced by this. Make their weakness into your own strength." He shifts on his crutches with some difficulty to face Ryouko and Kousuke. "You, Asazuki... even if you say you don't remember, it's likely that you decided to put yourself out of your own misery, instead of turning into a monster. The same goes with that girl." He gestures over his shoulder with one arm (the one that is not currently in a cast). "But when you woke up, you weren't any different than before."

"That's true..."

"So, this should become strength for the rest of you." The younger man smiles slightly. "If she lives, it will be proof. Take hold on your own minds. Have hope."

"It isn't that easy - "

"_I_ lived." He looks at the woman behind him, now, who has been wearing a concerned expression for the last few moments. "It wasn't easy. And my brother will be paying for hospital bills for the rest of his life, even if I don't make it another year. Even if these surgeries have failed, and I can never move my arm again." He glances at the cast. "But he won't fight it. It means I fought destiny, and won." His eyes turn back to Ryouko. "Take my proof, too, and turn it into your hope."

The pigtailed girl - Hiyono, Kousuke reminds himself - smiles, now, placing one hand gently on Ayumu's shoulder. "That's why Narumi-san came into this in the first place, wasn't it? To show you that you could fight your fate..."

"Rio didn't believe it." Eyes speaks now, softly, still looking through the glass into the hospital room. "And perhaps that was also a factor."

"So you're saying..." Ryouko looks at Kousuke. "You didn't believe it, either?"

He hesitates, then answers honestly, staring down at the floor. "I wasn't sure."

"Even a little faith is enough." Ayumu begins to turn around, struggling with his crutches. "Even if you were unsure about believing, that also meant you weren't sure about _not_ believing. And that's why you lived." He casts one final glance into the hospital room before turning away from them all. "And that's why _she'll_ live. And even if the rest of you are stupid enough to try something like that, you'll live, too. A little faith is enough."

"Hey, you - " Kousuke starts, but it is too late - the brown-haired teen is already moving down the hallway, raising his un-casted arm to wave casually at the three Blade Children in the hallway. Hiyono bows quickly before spinning around and following him, murmuring some sort of protest that sounds familiar to everyone. When she catches up to him, the sound of bickering is clear, and again the readhead can only think that it is like old times.

"Maybe he's right," Ryouko says, softly, and sighs. "But..."

"If Rio lives, we will know." Eyes walks to the chair beside Kousuke and sits, folding his arms across his chest. "And it may be all we need."

"Rutherford... aren't you scared?"

"Yes," he answers, immediately, and turns his head to look at Kousuke. "However... it may be better to believe, now."

"Believe what?" Ryouko's voice is unsteady now. "I don't want to try to kill myself - "

"Then believe that you won't. And that will be enough."

The hallway falls silent, and as three Blade Children watch a fourth lie struggling to live in a hospital bed, something like hope takes hold of their hearts, just a little, enough to be noticed. As shaken as they are, something that Ayumu has said - _a little faith is enough_ - has become true for them, both for the one among them that has already been through a day in hell, and for those who have not yet experienced such pain.

If it means the difference between life and death, what is the harm in believing?

And Kousuke speaks for all of them when he says, quietly, that he hopes Rio lives.


	17. the opposite of faith

Kanone Hilbert and Yuizaki Hiyono did not get along.

Every act of his hostage situation, his shooting in the halls of the Tsukiomi high school, had been planned out. It was a performance, and Kanone was an actor. He did not consider himself to be a toy, his puppet-strings manipulated by the restless hands of God - no, not like the others. He acted according to his own rules, saw the future with his own eyes. As he saw it, there was nothing that could prevent him from destroying the Blade Children. Not even Yuizaki Hiyono.

But he wasn't willing to take that chance.

"Here we are," he announced to no one, stepping through a doorway into the empty infirmary. He unshouldered the unconscious schoolgirl, placing her delicately on a bed and covering her with a thin blanket. A glance at her arm reminded him of the reason this chattering schoolgirl had gone silent; he dropped his weapons into a metal box, reached for the light switch, and began to rifle though the drawers of the nurse's station. His nimble fingers made quick work of an IV pole and bag of saline. "This should do," he murmured, the edges of his lips turning up into a slight smile. "Right?"

As he slid the needle of an IV into her vein, Kanone didn't stop to think about his actions. His reason for saving her was a simple one: she was uninvolved. As much as she schemed to distract him, or buy time for Narumi Ayumu and the others, Kanone cared little for Hiyono or her beliefs. She was a meddling schoolgirl, and he took the time to save her life only because it was worth saving. He knew she could (and probably would) try to interfere again, but he felt this would be inconsequential. She was destined to remain a non-player in this game, no matter how much she tried to become involved.

He didn't hate her - there was nothing to hate about a silly, misguided schoolgirl who'd taken an interest in Narumi Ayumu. He only wanted her gone. She was foolish enough to get in his way once ... and she wouldn't make that mistake twice.

"It's a nice name," he said aloud, gently squeezing the saline bag that hung above her head. "... Yuizaki Hiyono, that is. I wonder who gave it to you?" He paused, rolling the sleeve of her uniform up to get a better look at her wound. After a brief examination he turned back to the drawers of supplies, searching for a roll of bandages. "Some thoughtful parent, surely," he murmured. "A caring mother ... or father."

How close she'd come to learning the truth. _Your father's name is -_

"Well," he said softly, narrowing his eyes at the medical supplies in the cabinet he faced, "that's a story we would have to discuss some other time... isn't it?"

Truthfully, if Yuizaki Hiyono hadn't sided with Narumi Ayumu and the Blade Children - if she'd been an ordinary schoolgirl without a penchant for mysteries and strange people - Kanone might have liked her. They might have gotten along. He might have treated her with the same friendliness he'd extended to his classmates, the ones he'd been acquainted with before this shooting. He might have even gone beyond that, with her: she was unexpectedly pretty for a seventeen-year-old girl, with more common sense than others her age, and the daring, dangerous streak she had just exposed to him... well, even he could be tempted to indulge in something as "normal" as a romantic encounter, couldn't he? Though he'd never really entertained the idea of becoming involved with anyone, he could certainly act accordingly when there was something he wanted. And if he'd wanted this girl, for whatever reason...

"Foolish," he muttered, abruptly ending that train of thought. He wanted nothing but the Blade Children dead and this girl out of the way. That and nothing else. It was lonely, but necessary.

He knelt by the side of the bed and cleaned her wound, pausing to wipe a trail of dried blood from her arm with a wet cloth. When the area was clean, he pressed gauze to the still slowly bleeding cut before securing it with a wrap of thick white bandages. He worked quickly, expertly, seeming to know exactly what to do. After a moment he reached for a pair of small scissors and cut the roll of bandage, securing the loose end to the unmoving girl's arm with a small metal clip. "There," he said, and a smile creased his features, "all better."

The infirmary was silent. Kanone slowly stood, returning his supplies to the drawers, arranging things just the way they'd been before he entered. The school would be back to normal at some point, of course, after all the Blade Children were gone. It would be rude to leave a mess.

"I'll be going now," he said, turning back to the bed where Hiyono lay, still unconscious. He examined her for a moment, making sure she still breathed - it was slow, but her chest moved, up and down, up and down - before reaching for her thin, exposed arm. "When you open your eyes again, you'll probably know who won and who lost." He breathed out, something in his expression softening as he tucked her arm beneath the thin blanket that covered the rest of her body. "Probably, except for Kiyotaka... everyone will be losing."

He stood there in the silence of the infirmary, watching her slumber, and finally slipped the coat of his uniform from his shoulders. _Something to remember me by_, he thought to himself, draping it gently across the blanket, atop her small figure. _Since I suppose we'll never see each other again... right?_

He watched her for another moment, his face creased with pain, before he turned away to retrieve his weapons from the nearby lockbox. He felt sad, for some reason. Something felt tight in his chest, as if a hand had reached inside and twisted his heart. It could have been a number of things - could easily have been the knowledge that he planned to kill his friends in just a few more minutes - but something was ... different.

_We will all be losing. Even you. **Especially** you. Your faith will ultimately kill you in the end, won't it?_

He turned and left, a gun in each hand. And in the silence that followed in the infirmary, the young woman codenamed Yuizaki Hiyono opened her eyes and sighed.

* * *

_A note:_ I took some creative liberties with this one, omitting some of Kanone's dialogue from the end of this scene as it's told in volume 10. I can't say I'm entirely happy with this piece; my goal was to dive a bit into Kanone's perception of Hiyono. The first line ("Kanone Hilbert and Yuizaki Hiyono did not get along") has been stuck in my head for quite some time, and I don't feel it connects as well with the rest of the drabble as I'd like. So I may come back to this and write it over again if I have time.


	18. the heart of your gesture

"Your hair's getting long."

It was an innocent statement, at least in Kousuke's mind - it was nothing but an observation directed toward his closest friend and longtime sparring partner, a lanky brunette who dressed like a boy and kept her hair cut short. As long as the redhead could remember, Ryouko's tresses had been kept from growing out too long; she had a hairstyle that required no effort and was just long enough to identify her as a female. As he limped awkwardly into the kitchen of the house they shared, he'd seen her standing at the stove, from a distance, and the words had simply popped out of his mouth.

It was an innocent statement, surely. Except Ryouko was turning six shades of red and looked like she might take Kousuke's crutches out from beneath him and beat him with them.

The redhead gulped, his hands tightening around the wooden supports. "... what?"

"I've been in the hospital for a month, you know. Between that and getting shot at, I didn't have time for a haircut." Some of the color was leaving her face. Ryouko glared at him momentarily, then turned her attention back to the stove, where she was cooking breakfast. "I'll get it cut today."

"Hey, I wasn't saying... errr..." Kousuke hobbled cautiously into the kitchen, wincing. He was still trying to get the hang of his crutches, having been out of the hospital for less than a day. His leg was still a mangled mess, enclosed in a thick cast, and any contact with the floor was surprisingly painful. "It's not like it looks bad," he continued, looking through his glasses once he got closer. "I've just never seen it this long - "

"I know," she cut him off, rolling her eyes. "I hate it."

"Why?"

"It gets in the way. And if it gets too long, it starts to get - " She stopped mid-sentence, abruptly, and her cheeks colored again. "Never mind."

He lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing. Sit down before you kill yourself or break something." She moved toward the fridge, her eyes hidden behind a particularly long section of hair. "I'm cooking for you, so just wait a couple minutes."

He limped closer, peering into the pan that rested on the stovetop. "Eggs?"

"Mmhmm. An omelette."

"You take such good care of me, nurse." He grinned. "I thought I'd never get away from that hospital food."

"Don't expect too much. I'm not a culinary master like the Narumi brothers, you know." She closed the door of the fridge, having retrieved a few more ingredients, and came face-to-face with him. They stood facing each other, eyes meeting, and froze for just a moment before she sighed and emptied her arms onto the counter. "Kousuke, don't get in my way while I'm trying to cook - "

"It's cute."

"... eh?"

"Your hair."

"Shut up." Kousuke's reflexes were quick, but Ryouko's were quicker: before he could block her, she'd kicked one of his crutches out from beneath him. He landed on his casted foot and winced, stifling a howl of pain. "Don't say stupid things," she chided him as he tried to retrieve the fallen crutch from the tiled floor. "It's too much of a hassle. I'm getting it cut off today."

"You're so defensive..." He moved away from the stove and to the nearby eating table, alternately grunting and wincing as he tried to take a seat on a floor cushion. "I think it looks better, like this. You should leave it alone for a while."

"No."

"But I like it!"

She looked over her shoulder at him as she uncapped a jug of milk, her eyes hard. "Do you think I care about what you do and don't like?"

"You're making me an omelette, aren't you?"

"... hmph. Besides that." Her gaze shifted back to the stove. "Like I said. It's a hassle. And it's starting to get ... " She hesitated. "... it curls, if it's any longer than this."

"Really?" He blinked a few times. "I might like - "

"_NO_." An empty milk jug sailed over her shoulder and very narrowly missed knocking off the redhead's glasses. He'd been able to dodge that one. "I don't care. I'm cutting it."

"But," he began, reaching for the jug and twirling it around one finger, "I like girls with long hair, Ryouko."

"All the more reason to cut it," she replied, and the satisfaction that had crept into her voice was impossible to miss.

* * *

True to her word, after that morning's breakfast, Ryouko disappeared from the house for an hour. When she returned, Kousuke was sprawled out on the couch, a textbook resting in his lap and his crutches placed carefully on the floor beside him. "_Okaeri_," he called out, automatically, before she'd even offered her own greeting. "Is it done?"

"It's done," she answered, walking into the room and collapsing on the other end of the couch. The redhead glanced up, over the top of his glasses, looking her over once before returning to his book. "Back to normal," she said, running a hand through the short tresses. "They tried to convince me to keep it long, too, but it would just get in the way when I got back to running."

"Hmm. I guess so."

There was a pause, until suddenly she scooted closer to him, flattening the textbook in his lap with one hand. "You hate it, right?" she asked, enthusiasm in her voice. "You always said I looked too much like a boy with this haircut, right?"

"You used to. Not so much anymore." Kousuke lifted his head, looking at her with a smile. "You should know, though..."

"Eh?"

"I lied." Ryouko's reflexes were quick, but this time Kousuke was quicker: before she could process what he'd said, he leaned forward, kissing the brunette lightly on her forehead. "Short hair is better. And you're the only girl I like, anyway."

A few moments of silence passed. Then, as expected, the murderous rage kicked in, and Kousuke found himself on the receiving end of a choking from a very strong, very angry brunette.

But it was worth it, and even as he struggled to breathe, the satisfied smile that had crept onto his face was impossible to miss.


	19. above the thunder

It is two in the morning and there is a thunderstorm going on.

Takeuchi Rio _hates_ thunderstorms.

She shrieks when she awakes to the sound of thunder, shrieks again at the first sign of lightning, and after less than a minute of enduring this sound and fury, tumbles from her futon and flees down the hall to Ryouko's bedroom. She crawls into the brunette's bed with a sob, and only has to let out a pitiful "Ryouko-chan~" before the other girl wakes, shushes her, and pats her on the head - all in one seemingly fluid movement. It's a common thing, lately, these stormy nights.

Rio snuggles up to the body of her sister, burrowing her head into a warm pillow and huddling up beneath the comforter, and Ryouko laughs just as soon as she is done yawning. "I think people might be less scared of you if they could see this," she murmurs, tucking the edges of the thick blanket around the smaller girl's shoulders. "Though it'd be harder to intimidate them, wouldn't it?"

"It'd ruin my reputation," the gray-haired girl sniffs, and stifles a shriek as another clap of thunder echoes throughout the house. She closes her eyes tight, cringing, and a few moments later feels the gentle touch of Ryouko's hand on her head. "Thank you, Ryouko-chan," Rio whispers, sounding absolutely pitiful and not caring in the least. "I'm going to try to sleep now..."

"Eh? In my bed?"

Rio opens pitiful eyes to the gaze of the second Blade Child, and even in the dark, Ryouko seems to know she's lost. "Fine," she sighs, and gives the smaller girl another soft pat on the head. "For now, it's okay. But when the storm is over..."

"When it's over," Rio repeats, but seconds later the room is filled with lightning and she howls as if she's being murdered, and Ryouko only sighs again.

She falls asleep at some point, nestled beneath the comforter with her forehead against the shoulder of her half-sister, after the storm dies down enough to make her eyes too heavy to see the lightning. When she wakes, it is still dark; thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, but it is muffled now, far enough away that she feels safe. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and is about to crawl from the futon and slip back to her room when she realizes that Ryouko is no longer asleep beside her.

"What do we do now?"

"I wonder."

She begins to sit up and then decides against it; for some reason, now that she has heard Kousuke's voice, she decides to pretend as if she is asleep. Under normal circumstances she would have bounded from the futon and called him the usual _Kousuke no baka_ for some reason or another, but this time...

"How is your leg?"

"Better." Kousuke chuckles softly, and Rio can just make out his figure, sitting on the floor with his back to her, his still-casted leg stretched out in front of him. Ryouko sits beside him, her arm close to his but not quite touching, her head turned so she can look at him. "Another week," he remarks, and shrugs. "It isn't so bad. My arms have gotten stronger, thanks to those crutches."

"You won't have an excuse to get out of gym anymore, once the cast is off."

"Maybe I'll just drop out."

Ryouko's voice is dry. "Kousuke."

He chuckles again. "Alright..."

They are silent again, motionless as they sit side-by-side, and Rio wonders for a moment how long they have been sitting on the floor - wonders how and why Kousuke came to Ryouko's room, and what they said about her, still asleep on the futon. She hears thunder again and has to try not to squirm - it seems closer - and wonders if she should perhaps just yawn and pretend to wake up, but...

"Do you really want to keep going, like this?"

"Like what?" Ryouko has tilted her head, slightly, her voice soft. "Going to Tsukiomi?"

"No, I mean..." The redhead lifts his hands, gesturing vaguely with them. "... together. Living in this house, and ... everything else."

"What else would we do?"

"Is it enough?"

That question stills the room again, makes them both quiet, and it seems like a long time passes - and another rumble of thunder sounds again - before either of them speak. Kousuke's voice is unusually gentle, and the sound of it tugs at something that might be Rio's heart. "I don't know what's going to happen, Ryouko," he begins, "but if we only have a little time left, I don't want it to be ... half-assed, or stupid, or not what it should be. But if I don't know what you want - "

"Kousuke," she interrupts him, easily, and Rio watches her head fall onto his shoulder, hears him draw in his breath in surprise. "It's too late to be talking about things like that. Just be quiet."

"Ryouko..."

"I'm tired, and you're more comfortable than my bed right now." She leans into him, sighing softly. "That's all."

He laughs quietly, and as lightning fills Ryouko's room, Rio can hear him whisper something to her - something that might be his happiness, might even be a confession - but as she strains to make out the words, there is thunder and she instead hears herself shrieking.

"Rio." Her eyes are still shut tight when she hears the light switch click on. A strong hand - Kousuke's, of course - lifts her from beneath the blanket by the collar of her shirt, his voice soft - but amused. "You better work on that. One day you'll be in a dangerous situation, and your enemy will be able to paralyze you just by imitating a thunderstorm."

"You can't imitate a thunderstorm, _idiot_." There is a muffled thump, and the gray-haired girl opens her eyes just in time to see a pillow slide off of her half-brother's face onto the floor. Kousuke makes a sour face at Ryouko, who has just finished crossing the room back to her futon, and the brunette does nothing but smirk. It's as if the previous moment never happened, as if she hadn't just been sitting on the floor in the dark, all but confessing her love to him. But this happens; Rio knows that it's a common thing, lately, these moments. She knows, and understands, that they will take their time getting around to overcoming their fears.

Thunder sounds just outside again and she shrieks, wriggles out of Kousuke's grasp, and buries herself beneath the comforter again. She'll take her time, too, of course, getting over her own fears. For now, she'll continue hating thunderstorms in the same way she always has. It's just easier this way.


	20. beneath these hands

Life is a prison for Kanone Hilbert.

In reality, he is not so much a prisoner as a carefully watched houseguest. He lives comfortably within the walls of a facility, confined to a spacious room with windows and bookshelves and a soft bed. It is better than he deserves. His only visitors are Watchers and physicians, and a kind young woman who brings him his meals and any other supplies he may request. Other than these infrequent callers, he spends his hours alone and in silence, save the chirping of birds in the trees outside his windows.

It is better than he deserves except for the loneliness - that, he recognizes and knows he deserves, and suffers it quietly without complaint.

He is a soul imprisoned within a body, chained to a life he does not desire, but lacks the means - and the courage - with which to end it, to punish himself for the crimes he has committed. So he subsists quietly in his room, eating meals and reading novels and watching birds in the trees through the bars over his windows, with no choice but to remain living.

On this morning, a Tuesday, he has been given a tea kettle and coffee pot after weeks of waiting (but only with the promise that he will refrain from attempting to scald himself with the boiling water). He eats his breakfast and clears his dishes from the table, busying himself with the process of preparing the coffee maker for its first brew. He switches on the appliance and is about to visit his small refrigerator in search of milk when there is a knock on his door.

Something about this knock is familiar. Too familiar. He crosses the room without thinking, without hesitating, and feels his blood run cold. He knows that it is not a Watcher, this time. He knows that it may be his death calling on him, that he cannot hide from his destiny. If it is the boy called Hizumi, he cannot hesitate. He must accept it, and...

He opens the door, slowly, and falls immediately to his knees on the floor.

"... Kanone."

"_No_." He closes his eyes tight, his fists balling into fists on his knees, and turns his head away. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"I asked to see you."

"I don't want to see _you_!" His blood is running warm again, but his heart has reversed its slow speed and now drums heavily on the front of his chest, his pulse throbbing in his wrists. He feels a burning behind his eyelids - tears, perhaps - that he fights back, his teeth clenched so hard that he feels he might break them. "I should have _killed_ you, Eyes - "

"Kanone." A hand circles his wrist and pulls, and the teen is reminded of just how strong Eyes Rutherford is, has become, as he is lifted to his feet. He openes his eyes and looks down on the pale-haired young man who stands in the doorway of his prison, dressed in black with icy eyes that pierce his heart and soul like needles. Eyes says nothing; he simply gazes up at him, waiting, and Kanone must fight not to crumble to the floor again. He should have killed him, should have ended his life. He had two occasions and failed them both. He failed, and now...

"I don't want to see you," he says again, and his voice is broken and unrecognizable. He means these words - but he doesn't. Because he knows in his mind that Eyes Rutherford should be dead, that all of the Blade Children should be dead already, but his heart speaks volumes about his other intentions, his other emotions. He fights hard to mask them, to force them down into the blackness, but he finds it hard to win this fight in the face of the person whose very presence cripples his intentions and renders him useless.

He stumbles on his feet, tipping forward, and Eyes easily lifts a hand to catch him by the shoulder. Kanone breathes out, shakily, and finds that his own hands have moved very much on their own, pressing to the cold skin of the younger man's cheeks. He brings his forehead to touch Eyes', looking into those sharp, unfeeling blue orbs, and wishes that he were dead. He cannot win this fight, cannot keep himself from the human emotion of wanting in the presence of this person. He feels that his heart must be cracking, now, breaking the poorly mended cracks from before and shattering what remains of his being into jagged pieces. He wants to die, right now. He does not want to see either of them alive.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice." Eyes' voice is low, but not angry. "You failed to kill me as you intended," he says, and Kanone can feel slender fingers grip his shoulder tighter than before, "and I chose to keep you alive."

"You _know_ I should be dead - "

"That is no longer your choice."

Kanone feels both infuriated and defeated. He struggles, standing there, suddenly acutely aware of how quickly the words are passing between them. He feels a terrible mix of wanting; he wants to lunge forward and wrap his hands around that pale neck, but he knows that if he tried, he would simply find himself caressing him, touching him, satisfying his cravings. He wants to stop those words from coming out of his mouth, wants to stop his lips from moving with his own. He wants his death, _their_ death, but there is a voice within him that begs him to just touch Eyes, instead, to pull his body into his own and smother any foul intentions with his passion. Beneath his hands is the body of a person he both loves and despises; his brother, his lover, a man he would kill just as soon as he would press him to a floor and strip his clothes from his body and -

His thoughts have gone too far. He breathes, exhaling deeply, fighting to clear his mind. It is a long process; neither of them move. Finally he rights himself, lifting his hands carefully, almost reluctantly, from Eyes' skin. "You are right," he says, evenly, "it is not my choice."

Eyes looks up at him, unsurprised and unmoving, and as they stare at each other there is suddenly the strong scent of brewed coffee in the room. Kanone jolts at first, then relaxes, forcing a smile. "Well," he says, and steps aside, gesturing to the room, "would you like a drink?"

"... yes."

"Then please come in," he responds, and welcomes Eyes into the prison that is his room, knowing he has already reached the one inside his heart.


	21. the possibility of zero

"You Blade Children. You're too much to handle."

Eyes sips his tea and looks calmly at the pink-haired woman sitting across from him, feeling a mixture of annoyance and amusement at her words. Tsuchiya Kirie was the last person he had expected to accompany him home from the hospital - and stay with him, on top of that. She sent home his manager and various attendants days ago, insisting that she was the only one capable of caring for him. Now she is living in his home, and at the start of this morning she has arrived at the head of his table with this angry announcement.

He supposes he should ask what has happened, but he knows that she will tell him anyway - so he simply sits and waits.

"I know you visited Kanone Hilbert yesterday." She drinks from a mug of black coffee, her eyes narrowed and focused at him even as she does so. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"I never made any attempt to hide it from you." He reaches for his fork, looking down at the half-eaten omelet on his plate. "You said before that he would be allowed visitors - "

"Don't you think it's going to bother you, having seen him? When he finally dies, isn't that going to make it worse for you?"

His fork scrapes the plate slightly, and he feels one of his eyebrows twitch. He hates to show any sign of her words having an impact on him. He knows full well that she desires the satisfaction of hurting him, this woman - not because she is cruel, but because she knows the truth too well, wants him to be fully aware that there is no hope for him, for Kanone, for any of the others. She is realistic, and reality is pain. "Perhaps," he answers, and adjusts the angle of his fork as he attempts again to tear away another bite of food. "But it cannot be just me that you're angry with."

"No," she snorts, and leans backwards in her chair. Eyes sees that she hasn't bothered to dress yet, is still wearing a bathrobe and slippers. "Rio-chan tried to escape from the hospital this morning, and that redheaded idiot friend of yours was hobbling around on his broken leg trying to find her. They both caused me a_ lot_ of trouble."

He feels a smile tug on the corner of his mouth, and disguises it with a mouthful of egg. "Hmm," he murmurs, hoping she won't notice. "I see."

"On top of that, this situation with Hizumi..." She makes a sour face, cursing under her breath. "It'd be best if Ayumu-kun would kill him quickly, but they're acting as if they'd rather have fun. The longer Hizumi stays alive, the worse things will become for everyone. He's certainly planning something beneath that stupid smile of his... _damn_ it!" She gulps down the rest of her coffee, then slams the empty mug down on the surface of the table. "You kids are too much for me. I feel like a babysitter."

"Were you asked to mind us so closely?"

"Don't get smart with me, Raza-kun." Eyes feels almost as if Kirie should have fangs, judging by the venom in her voice. "No one else can do my job. If I wasn't here with you, or watching Ayumu-kun and Hizumi, the whole situation would be entirely out of control."

"You don't feel that the things would resolve themselves?"

At this question she starts, sitting upright in her chair. Some of the anger fades from her face, and she is quiet for a moment, simply looking at him. She rises then, slowly, and leaves the room. When she returns, she carries a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "Kiyotaka believes that the board will eventually be cleared of all its pawns," she says, her voice returned to normal. "That everything will return to zero. All of the Blade Children, Watchers, Hunters, and Savers will be gone, and the world will be returned to the way it was before Mizushiro Yaiba even existed."

Eyes is familiar with this declaration, of course. He places his fork down on the table, discarding the thought of eating for the time being. "Yes," he responds, and watches her sit again, this time in a chair closer to his. "But your opinion is ... ?"

"This kind of thing isn't going to be possible without some interference." She tosses the small box and lighter to the table, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm forbidden to directly prevent someone from following through with their intentions, but I can argue against them. By watching the situation, I can determine how Kiyotaka's plan will become reality. But..." Her brows crease. "... I should have prevented Hizumi from enrolling in school. I also should have kept a better watch on Rio-chan and the others, to make sure they weren't going to cause trouble for the hospital. While you're all still alive, I'm responsible for keeping other people - _innocent_ people - from being dragged into this mess. It's bad enough that Ayumu-kun's little girlfriend is already involved."

"So you feel that no one other than us should suffer."

"Don't throw yourself a pity party, Raza-kun." She turns dark blue eyes on him, frowning. "I'll be gone in the end, too. The board will be cleared of _all_ of its pieces. Not just the Blade Children."

He twines his fingers together, returning her gaze without hesitation. "Are you afraid of your own death, Kirie?"

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "Don't think," she says, sharply, "that I don't realize how likely it is - that your switch might just flip right now. I could have a bullet in my head in five minutes." She leans forward, holding up a finger. "And that, Raza-kun, is why_ I_ am here. Because I'll die in the end, too, eventually. If you killed me now, it would simply follow Kiyotaka's plans. If I die later, it won't make any difference. We're all destined to follow this downward spiral until the very end."

"So you aren't scared, then."

"I've come to accept it." She draws back, turning away to fish a cigarette out of the box on the table. "I can't possibly care about my own life, now, or even yours. I know what's coming for us." Her voice softens. "It's a little romantic, if you want to be a fool about it... all of us meeting our fates together."

He watches her bring the cigarette to her lips, thinking for a moment. "So," he says, quietly, calmly, "if you have no attachment to us, you won't feel any remorse when I finally die."

"... che." She makes a disgruntled noise around the cigarette in her mouth, looking sharply to the bay window behind the table. "When you say it like that, it sounds inhumane."

"Isn't it ... ?"

She reaches for her lighter. "I don't care. Live or die... just don't kill anyone innocent while you do it. If you give the Hunters a reason to act, things will get even more complicated than they already are. And in that case..." She watches the flame that jumps to meet the end of her cigarette, her eyes flicking to his for just a moment. "In that case, I would just have to kill you myself."

And somehow, Eyes doesn't believe that she could.


	22. tomorrow is something we remember

It's not like me to write something so long for 23ji, which has been a collection of sometimes painfully short pieces for 21 chapters long. But as I neared the end, this idea wormed its way into my mind and refused to leave. At over 5000 words, it's a mismatch with the rest of the series - but at the same time, it is truly and absolutely necessary.

I've given Kousuke and Ryouko's relationship quite a bit of attention over the course of these pieces, but I feel that their story is so important to the Blade Children as a whole that I don't regret doing so. This, and the final chapter, will give them the futures I think they deserve. I think I've wanted to write this piece for years - and now that it is finally out, I feel perhaps as relieved as Kousuke does by the end. It's a good feeling, thinking that you've done two characters some justice.

This is the beginning of the end... so, please enjoy it.

* * *

**23ji no ongaku**  
closing act: tomorrow is something we remember

* * *

It starts when she finds the knife.

"What is this?"

The door and his mouth are both half-open when she confronts him; he has just arrived home from his weekly evening class, and the cold wind of a frigid winter night is still at his back when he sees her standing there, her ruby eyes hard and serious, and a large, sharpened hunting knife in her hand. He blinks, caught off guard, and allows the door to close slowly behind him. "It's," he begins, slowly, deliberately, "a knife."

"This was in your room." Her tone is accusing, and she spares a glance at the weapon in her hand that carries obvious disgust. "I was putting away your laundry when I found it. I told you no weapons in this house, Kousuke, and - "

"Oh, come _on_, Ryouko." He drops his bag, bending to remove his shoes, and irritability creeps into his voice. He has lived with his childhood friend for almost four years now, and after their shootout in Tsukiomi, was banned from keeping weapons in the house that technically still belongs to Ryouko's aunt. "It's just a knife," he says, standing to shed his winter coat carelessly on the floor of the entryway, "and it was under my bed, so if you were putting my laundry away there - "

"Don't joke with me."

"Don't be so damn serious." He faces her, crossing his arms. "I only have it in case something happens. That's all."

She is frowning, studying him closely -_ too_ closely - and it dawns on him that she isn't just irritated this time. They have been fighting more, lately, involved in spats that concern everything from meals to schoolwork to sharing a bathroom, but she has never confronted him about something like this. He is quiet for a moment, turning his eyes on the blade, until he finally begins to walk closer to her. "Ryouko," he begins, carefully, "why were you looking for this?"

"I don't have to tell you. It's my house, and I said no weapons." She throws the knife to the floor, where it bounces a single time before landing with a loud, sharp-sounding clatter. "Get rid of it," she commands, and turns on her heel to leave the entranceway. "Now," she adds, after a pause, as if she has already predicted how he will respond - _I'll do it tomorrow_, as he says so often - and then disappears from view, into the kitchen.

Kousuke looks after her, caught entirely off guard by these actions, both irritated and surprised. He has just arrived home from a long day on campus, has a lot of studying to do before he will be able to sleep tonight... and now Ryouko is upset with him. It wasn't as if he had tried to hide the knife from her: he had been keeping it under his bed in case of an emergency, and that was all. He has had this knife since almost childhood, knows it like the back of his hand, and thinks it is preposterous to consider throwing it away. If someone were to break into the house, or attack them, what would they do?

"Damn..." The redhead curses softly, bending to pick up the fallen weapon, and grits his teeth as he proceeds into the house. Ryouko stands at the sink in the kitchen, wrist-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a plate as if she is furious with it. When he enters she looks up, sharply, her eyes moving immediately to the blade in his hand. "Listen," he begins, before she can say anything, "I don't know what started this, but - "

"What if something happened to you, Kousuke?"

He blinks. "What?"

"If you lost control of yourself, and that knife was in your room..." She looks back to the sink, plucking a plate from the water and placing it in a plastic strainer. "... what do you think would happen?"

He can't help it: he laughs. He is almost twenty, as is she, and nothing has happened. In fact, he has nearly forgotten about the "curse" of the Blade Children. He has been so busy with his university classes and the rest of his life, a life he threw himself headlong into, that he can barely spare time to think about his bloodied, darkened past or the future that he has been told to expect. He keeps himself so busy that he rarely stops to think about what might happen in just a few weeks. They haven't discussed this yet, but he is to the point of believing that there is no switch - an idea that Narumi Ayumu had seemed to support. So he laughs at the insinuation that he might somehow harm himself -

"It's not funny!"

- and immediately regrets it. Ryouko has whirled toward him, her eyes dark and dangerous, and her hands drip water and frothy suds as they fall to her sides. She is furious, now, and Kousuke immediately makes plans to defend himself against the inevitable physical assault that will come his way in just a few moments. "I'm not joking," she starts, her words as treacherous as the knife still in his hand. "If you've been thinking of keeping that around so you can just... take care of things, when the time is right..."

"What are you _talking_ about?" He gapes at her. "Do you really think I would kill myself?"

"Wouldn't you? If you lost control - "

"I would _never_ - " He realizes he is raising his voice and stops, sucking in a breath. "... I would never hurt myself," he tries again, calmer now. "I've done enough of that in the past. I know what we were told would happen, but I would never - "

She cuts him off easily, and this time there is a tremble in her words that he recognizes as sadness disguised behind anger - a familiar sound, too familiar for his taste. "You would hurt _me_, though, wouldn't you?"

He wants badly to slap her for making the insinuation, and doesn't miss the irony in this urge. "Ryouko," he begins, and feels his hands begin to shake as he struggles to keep control of himself, of his nerves. "I would never, not in a hundred thousand years, hurt you. Even if I lost complete control of myself, I would never use this - " He gestures to the blade in his trembling hand. " - against you. If you think anything else, you're wrong."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" She doesn't look at him now. "You didn't listen to me when I told you I didn't want any weapons in this house. If something happens to you, and you can't fight the curse, what will happen to me? How can you even believe that you won't hurt me?"

"There is no such fucking _thing_ - "

"Just go away!" She shouts over him, and on that abrupt note turns and flees from the kitchen in the direction of her bedroom. Kousuke watches, both furious and dumbfounded, as she vanishes to the tune of a slammed and locked door. He looks down at his hands and sees that they are shaking, hard. He stares at them for a long time, his mind cloudy, and isn't sure what to do next.

Several minutes pass before he simply walks to his room, sits on his futon, and begins to turn the knife over in his hands as her words turn themselves over in his head. He is still shocked, still angry, but as he sits in silence on the edge of his mattress, he begins to feel sorrow. It is true that he lied to her, that he hid the knife from her. He thinks that she has a good reason to be angry with him - but not to act like this. Something, he feels, must have provoked her. He wonders if he has been acting particularly cruel to her lately...

_You would hurt **me**, though, wouldn't you?_

"Never," he says, aloud, looking down at the blade, and his voice is sad and strained. "Never in a hundred thousand years, Ryouko."

There has to be a reason, he thinks, that this has happened. He sits and dwells on the last few days, their previous weeks spent together, and wonders. They have fought more often, lately, but only over small, silly things. They have been tense around each other, but that, the redhead thinks, is to be expected considering the status of their relationship - or lack thereof. They have been living together as friends for so long, rarely acknowledging their feelings for each other, that they have all but forgotten about the idea of ever advancing in the direction of romance. He feels strongly for her, adores her, but how can he tell her his feelings when she can't even trust him?

Kousuke tosses the knife into the air and catches it with his other hand, pausing momentarily to look at the blade. He has been wanting to tell her for a long time, now, what he has begun to feel about the curse, their fate, their identities as Blade Children... and his feelings for her. But something has clouded her mind, made her unreceptive of his thoughts. He frowns, frustrated, and tosses the knife into the air a second time, then a third. As he thinks, he gradually begins to pass the weapon from hand to hand, automatically throwing and catching, his thoughts racing through his mind. He wonders if she will listen to him in the morning - if he should simply give up for the evening, and try again in a few hours, sitting her down to explain his feelings to her. He knows she is still mad about the knife, and he will admit that he was wrong to keep it, he thinks. But aside from that...

Why would she think that he would hurt himself, or her? Could he really ever lose control of himself in such a way?

Suddenly he notices that she has appeared in the doorway of his room, has been standing silently in place watching him idly toss his knife into the air. Her eyes are red around the edges and there are shining trails from tears on her cheeks. She stands leaning against the doorway, her arms wrapped around each other, watching him without speaking. Even in the midst of her sadness, this obvious distress, Kousuke is struck by how beautiful she has become in these past few months. His entire world seems to tilt and spin recklessly when she is near; it's as if a single smile or frown could provoke him into acting on the most insane of urges -

In the instant that his eyes find hers and his mind wanders, he forgets to catch the knife. It falls to his hand, the blade slicing cleanly across his palm before plunging to the floor and landing with a sharp series of noises. He swears under his breath, drawing close his hand - and all at once Ryouko gasps aloud and flees from the doorway.

"Hey - Ryouko!" He is to his feet in an instant, sprinting from his room, but she is faster. He is confused and concerned, not about his hand (which has begun to bleed, slowly) but about her. It isn't like her to run from him, to evade him so easily, not in the way she has been doing tonight. "What's wrong?" he calls from the hallway, not sure where she has gone. "It's just a scratch - "

The front door slams. He is there within a moment, tearing it open again to see her running away from the house, her sneakers thrown on hastily and unlaced. "RYOUKO!" he screams, but she doesn't look back, only runs faster. It has started to snow and she is wearing only a thin shirt and shorts, and he begins to chase her - but stops before his feet have left the porch. "Shit," he says to himself, and looks down at his bleeding hand, now dripping. It's not a scratch at all, and if he doesn't treat it soon...

He weighs his options, watching her figure retreat into the blackness of the night. He can chase her, certainly, without shoes on and blood streaming from his throbbing hand, or he can wait and give her time. He knows where she is going, and that he will only hurt the both of them if he follows her now... so he sighs, hard, and turns back to go inside.

He takes only a few minutes to clean and bandage the gash on his palm (which is really quite serious, probably bad enough to require stitches, but he can think about that tomorrow), then grabs his winter coat from the floor of the entranceway and looks around the house until he finds hers, too. While he is in her bedroom he picks up a scarf from her dresser, for good measure, and throws haphazardly it around his shoulders. He is caught a little off guard by the sudden presence of her scent as he does this - shampoo, he thinks, because she doesn't wear perfume. He pauses there, draws in a breath, then starts back to the door. Before his mind can settle on the pain in his palm or the sweet scent that lingers around his shoulders, he bounds toward the front of the house, quickly laces up his shoes, and throws himself into the night.

His bike is waiting by the side of the house, and that is all he needs. He hops on, tossing both of their coats over the handlebars, and pedals immediately in the direction of Tsukiomi High School. More than two years after graduation, there is still only one place that Ryouko goes to run - or to hide: Tsukomi's track. He knows she will be there (or at least close to it, depending on how fast she has been running), knows she will be shivering and insensible and not in any mood to be told to stop and come home. But he has to stop her, this time - has to tell her what he feels, has to put an end to those fears inside her head that are screaming her deaf. There is no waiting, now, no turning back. And as he pedals hard in the direction of that familiar school, cutting through alleyways and dodging fresh patches of snow, he is no more ready to talk than he was an hour before... but he realizes that readiness is not an option any longer. It is now or never, and he can't - _won't_ - risk losing her.

The snow is coming down hard by the time he blazes up the path overlooking the track, and he spots her easily below, her figure lonely and illuminated under the white glow of streetlights and a half moon. What surprises him is that she isn't running or even moving: she stands still on the edge of the track, arms hanging by her sides, facing away from him. Kousuke observes her for only a moment before he does something rash, turning the front wheel of his bike into the grass. He rushes down the slippery hill, riding through the slick greenery at a pace that would prompt screaming from any normal person. He knows, certainly, that the front wheel could hitch or turn at any moment, and he would be thrown to the ground and hurt badly, but he doesn't care. His eyes stay focused on Ryouko and he holds the handles firm, straight, his fists tight and white-knuckled. He arrives at the edge of the track in record time and brakes just behind her, the tires squealing - and it's at this point that the tires slip and he topples over onto his side.

There is silence for a moment, and the redhead is just opening his eyes when he hears her, softly, sadly: "... _baka_."

"Heh..." He laughs, pushing the bike off of him, ignoring the harsh sound it makes as it topples to the ground on its other side. He rises to his feet, cringing only once as his bandaged palm scrapes the rough surface of the track, and picks up their coats from where they have fallen. "Here," he says, and although he sees that she is looking away, her eyes a long way off, he still places her jacket on her shoulders. "You forgot this."

"I don't need - "

"Cut it out. Put your coat on." He cuts her off easily, firmly, but there is no anger in his voice. She turns halfway around, her eyes wide and surprised, and he meets her gaze as confidently as he can. "Then tie your shoes, and - " He pulls the scarf from around his neck and reaches out, looping it once around her own. "... wear this, too. It's cold out. The last thing I want is for you to freeze to death out here by yourself."

She is beginning to frown. "You don't have to treat me like a child."

"I'm not treating you like anything. I'm trying to show you that I care about you." He looks away, sliding his own overcoat around his shoulders and buttoning it slowly, using only his uninjured hand. "You can yell at me all you want, Ryouko. I'm done yelling back. Just let me... say something, now, while we're here, and I'll never bother you again."

Something in the stunned silence that follows his words is enough to unsettle him out of the stern, confident demeanor that has possessed him. "I just," he continues after a pause, staring at the buttons on his coat, "want to make sure you're okay. You ran out of the house so fast, and I was going to tell you..." He lifts his eyes briefly and sees that she has bent to tie her loose shoelaces into knots, that her coat is no longer hanging loosely from her shoulders but has been tucked tight around her. "... there's something I have to say," he continues, softer this time, and sees her eyes dart back to him. "About this curse, about you, and me, this whole stupid situation - "

"I'm listening." She's the one who interrupts him now, rising to her feet, turning around to face him. He can see clearly, even in the dim light, that her eyes are still red at the edges, her lips now dry and cracked from the bitterly cold wind, but she is as beautiful as ever. She meets his gaze easily at first, then seems to grow hesitant, her focus shifting to the side as she folds her arms together. "But - but I'm still going to run, now that I'm out here, so make it quick."

"Do you hate me?"

It isn't the question he had planned to ask, but it is the one in his heart, and so it slips out of his mouth with ease. He watches her for the reaction, and it is instant: her eyes grow large, her arms unfold halfway, and her lips part into the shape of a semicircle. She stares at him in this way for several seconds, and then begins to frown, irritated - although not at him, he thinks, not at all. "No," she answers, and shakes her head once, deliberately. "I don't... I..."

"Would you hate me if I turned into some sort of monster? If my switch was flipped?" His voice catches in his throat. "If I tried to kill you?"

"You would never try to kill me," she says, softly, and now it is his turn to find himself with wide eyes, with surprise written on his face. She looks up at him, at this expression, and the crease of her eyebrows relaxes somewhat. "I know I was wrong," she says. "Even if you lost control of yourself, you would never hurt me... or Rio, or Rutherford. I know that you'd sooner kill yourself..."

"But - "

"I wouldn't hate you," she says, and there is a hitch in her voice that sounds more familiar than he likes. She is close to tears, again, already. "I could never hate you, Kousuke."

"Then - I - " He stumbles, has to take a moment to recollect his thoughts. "... I want you to believe me when I say that this ... curse, this story about Yaiba's blood, everything we've been told... It shouldn't have any power over us. It should never cause us to fight, like this, or make us think that we hate each other. We can't believe that we're going to lose each other to it. You know what it's already done to us..."

She is looking away, wiping at her eyes. "How can I not believe it? You've been told the same things as me - "

"They're _lies_, Ryouko!" He doesn't mean to yell, but he does - not because he is mad, but because the words have finally bubbled over, have risen to the surface on the top of a pot of boiling emotion. "You have to know this - you have to see it, too. The Hunters told us about the curse, made us believe it was real, so we would drive ourselves crazy and end our own lives. It isn't _real_!"

"You - " She seems stunned and almost horrified. "That's what you were trying to say ... "

"You know I would never hurt you. If the curse was real, you wouldn't be able to have confidence in that. If the curse was real..." He looks quickly to his bandaged hand, flexing it once and immediately wincing. "... I would have used that knife on myself a long time ago. I only kept it to protect us. I never meant for you to think I had it for any other reason... that I had any thoughts, or wanted to end it..." He shakes his head, feeling his emotions threaten to cripple him, his heart like a dead weight in his chest. "The curse isn't real. The longer we believe that it exists, the more power it has. And I can't stand around and give it any more power than it already has, or put off the things I want to say and do because I'm too fucking concerned about possibly going crazy or dying to say them - " He looks at her again, straight into her eyes this time. " - I'm tired of it. I want to live my life."

Her expression is mingled between shock and fear and confusion, and he sees that she is still very near the point of crying, is unsure of this moment and what it means. He takes a step closer to her, then another, and when he is close enough to look into her eyes, to really look into them, now, he feels the words rise to the surface again, pushing angrily against his mouth, demanding an exit. "I've wasted too much time," he tells her, and the rawness of his voice startles him. "If I died tomorrow, for whatever reason, I would never be able to sleep peacefully. We've been so - so damn terrible to each other, all this time. I can't take it anymore."

"Kousuke..."

"Ryouko." He cups her chin in his hands, lifting her eyes to his, and they are wild and frightened and full of tears. "I," he starts, and the words abruptly die - but there is no point in hesitating now, no good reason. "I love you," he says, and her eyes grow wide, but he mustn't stop. "I love you," he repeats, almost desperately now, his voice rising, "and I won't leave you. I _can't_ leave you. This curse is - nothing. It's meaningless. I won't ever - " He sees her expression beginning to change, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and before he can change his mind he has bent to crush her lips with his own. He kisses her hard, full both of passion and uncertainty, and doesn't stop until he feels her hand come to rest gently against his wrist. "I won't ever stop," he gasps, wrenching his mouth away, and shakes his head without looking at her. "I promise, I really - "

"Kousuke."

The softness of her voice startles him very nearly out of his mind. He looks down at her and sees that she has calmed - but that her cheeks are flushed, her eyes trained on the point where her fingers have circled his uninjured hand. He has expected her to scream, to yell, to hit him... but instead she stands before him, calm, her tears held back for the time being, her cheeks rosy from the cold and what he guesses is her first (_their_ first) kiss. "You don't have to promise me anything," she tells him, softly, and twines her fingers between his own. "You didn't have to say all that. I just wanted to know..."

"Wanted to know - what?"

"That you felt..." She pauses, then takes the final step forward, closing the distance that remains between them, her body colliding softly with his. "... something," she murmurs, her head falling to his shoulder. "But you didn't have to say..."

"It's true," he responds, sulkily, wondering if she doesn't believe him - but the feeling of her hand in his and her breath warm on his neck drains the indignant thoughts from him in a matter of moments. He waits, simply breathing, feeling her close to him, and when she doesn't move or speak he takes the opportunity. "It's all true," he says, his voice gentle, "and I'll never stop meaning it. I won't leave you. I'll prove that this curse is fake, that it doesn't exist, that I can beat it, just so I can spend the rest of my life - "

"Hush," she commands, and he does, immediately, his lips pressed tight together. They stand together on the track in silence, the cold wind carrying snowflakes that whirl around them, gathering on their hair and jackets, and Kousuke realizes after a moment that Ryouko is beginning to shiver. He opens his mouth to say something but she beats him to it, her voice soft. "I don't want to run anymore," she murmurs. "Let's go home..."

"Good idea." He reluctantly pulls away from her, his hand lingering against hers until he feels forced to move it, looking down into her eyes to be sure she isn't crying or upset. Much to his surprise, she turns her gaze away from him, shyly, pulling her coat tight around her slim figure. He hides a smile as he turns around, walking to where the bike still lies on the surface of the track, and uprights it easily. "Want a ride?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

She makes a face at him now. "I'm not going to walk."

He smiles again, visibly this time, and seats himself on the very front of the bicycle seat. "Hop on," he says, and waits until she does, seating herself carefully behind him. He is about to begin pedaling - they have taken rides together like this countless times before, to and from school in the spring and autumn months, so he knows how to steer without knocking her off of the back - when he feels her arms slip around his middle and tighten there, her forehead coming to rest against his back. He is so startled that he nearly falls over, but the fear of upsetting her - and ruining this moment - keeps him sitting up straight. The feeling of her so close to him again, no longer in the middle of a frenzied and passionate instant in which he had barely thought, only acted, is enough to send warmth rushing into his face. He is glad, immediately, that she isn't able to see him blushing. "Hold on tight," he calls to her, and pushes down on the left pedal, beginning their ride back home.

They make most of the trip in silence, Ryouko holding on to Kousuke as he balances himself carefully on the edge of the seat, cautiously guiding the bike back up the path away from Tsukiomi, then through the quiet and deserted roads and alleyways that are familiar to him. Snow continues to flurry down upon the frigid ground, and the redhead thinks to himself that he may not have to worry about his homework tonight after all: if it continues on like this, his classes will be canceled. The thought of spending a day alone with Ryouko would have worried him, before this, but now...

"Kousuke?"

He glances over his shoulder, just barely hearing her voice behind him. "What?"

There is a pause; he feels her arms tighten around his waist, her head coming to rest snugly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says, softly, into his ear. "I didn't mean to - "

"It doesn't matter." He focuses again on the road, steering them carefully around a corner, his hands gripping tight the cold handlebars of his bike. The action irritates his injured hand, which he remembers with some surprise: it has been so cold that the wound has almost gone numb. "We can put these things behind us," he says to her, gently. "Tomorrow is the start of something new."

"Mm..." She hesitates, and he can hear the reluctance when she continues. "I was scared that... you might do something to yourself... With your birthday coming soon, and the way you've been acting lately..."

"How's that?"

"You've been avoiding me, so... I thought that maybe you had stopped caring about me, or - "

He laughs, loud, and this time he isn't worried about the repercussions. "Ryouko," he says, and there is a feeling as if the great weight of a misunderstanding has been lifted from his shoulders, "If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm crazy about you. It's just hard to be around you when all we do is fight." He smiles, looking up into the navy sky, watching the tiny flakes of snow fall gracefully to the ground. "But I have to believe that there's nothing for us to worry about. Even if something did happen to me, or to you... We'll just ruin our lives if we keep focusing on it, like this. No matter what happens, I want to make tomorrow into something I won't regret."

"Kousuke..."

"I know I've done things wrong, before now." He nods, to himself. "But as long as I have you, it won't matter."

"_Baka_," she says, immediately, but her voice lacks the venom he is used to; she sounds near tears again, full of emotion, and before he can even think to respond she speaks the words he has been waiting to hear for months, years, what seems like an eternity. "I love you," she tells him, and it is almost a sob of defeat, but he knows in his heart that it is a victory for her, for the both of them, to be able to speak these words and mean them, without fear that they will be for nothing. And when they arrive home a moment later, he lifts her from the bike, into his arms, and kisses her again with everything he has, all the emotions in his heart overflowing into that one single, solitary moment. It is a victory, his happiness, and it is the start of a life with her - a new life, one that is almost normal - that he has been wanting for longer than he can remember.

They stand there in the falling snow for a little while after that, wrapped up in each others arms in front of the house they share, their cold breath mingling in the air, and it is Ryouko who speaks first, her gaze lifting to meet his. "Can we really do this?" she asks, softly, fearfully. "If something does happen to one of us..."

"We're always going to run that risk." He presses his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. "But there's no point in wasting our lives any more than we already have. I'll do whatever I can to stay with you... no matter what happens."

"You really don't believe in the curse ... ?"

"Not anymore." He sighs. "I don't want to give it any more power than it already has."

"Then..." When he opens his eyes, he sees that she is smiling, however slightly, looking up at him with more confidence than reluctance and fear. "I'll try to believe in that, too," she tells him. "I'll do my best..."

"That's all I can ask." He bends to press a kiss to her forehead, and watches as her cheeks grow rosy and warm. "Come on," he says, softly, nodding to the front door, "let's go. If you wake up tomorrow with a cold, you'll probably beat me senseless for keeping you out here so long."

She smiles wider, now, and he can see some of her old self returning in that action. "At least I know you'll be sick, too," she remarks, and pulls easily out of his arms to walk up to the front porch. "So you'll be just as miserable as me."

He groans. "Ryouko..."

"Hurry up," she calls, and disappears inside. He watches her go, folding his arms across his chest, and lets out a heavy sigh of relief. Tomorrow will be better, he thinks, and is glad for it. Tomorrow, he thinks, and starts toward the front door, is the start of the rest of their lives together.


	23. you will get your wish

We have arrived at the end. It's been over three years coming, the completion of this series. It feels like a dream to be here, at drabble 23, writing this note. I am known not for finishing my ideas, but for starting them and writing them with such fury until my attention wanes, then dies, and leaves a graveyard of dozens of untouched and half-completed chapters in my wake. (Chain, anyone?)

It only seems fair to dedicate this final piece, and perhaps even the whole thing, to the writer who inspired this last little bit. There's so much to be said about someone who sticks with you until the very end, offering those little bits of constant praise and happiness... someone who reads it all and never fails to delight you with that email or PM. "Pretty Good Year" stuck in my head and refused to go away until I offered my own spin on the same idea, and what can I say... it seemed right to end 23ji this way.

Azalee, this one's for you. And for the rest of you: thanks, and best wishes. Stick around if you like - you may see some more of this, someday.

* * *

**23ji no ongaku**  
the finale: you will get your wish

* * *

For twenty years, they went without wishing, without hoping, without dreaming.

And when they all, finally, turned twenty - when they passed through the year with flying colors - they each found themselves with one wish.

Takeuchi Rio hadn't expected to live. She'd worked tirelessly in the Middle East and around the world, flying from country to country, doing everything from disarming hazardous land minds to cooperating with governments on the development of new explosion and implosion technologies. She scorned the nicknames like "fairy of the desert," but inside she'd felt a secret thrill at being known by these names and not another one, one much worse. She'd expected this work to last only a few years, but autumn came and went and she lived. In fact, she'd been so busy in Albania, that season, that she'd forgotten her birthday. She was surprised and pleased, and actually shed a few tears over the matter.

Eyes Rutherford hadn't expected anything in particular. He'd thrown himself headlong into music again, touring all around the world, finding beauty in the cobbled streets of small French cities and inspiration in the hazy summers and sandy beaches of California. He composed music as if it was critical to his life, ate and breathed sonatas and serenades. There was concern in the back of his mind, at times, but he moved too quickly to think of what might become of him. When he turned twenty, he was in Japan, visiting Narumi Ayumu in the hospital. They spoke little during his visit; instead, they sat together at the piano by his hospital bed and played a duet.

Takamachi Ryouko had pretended not to worry. She finished high school and started university, focusing her studies on athletics and little else. She competed when and where she was able, landing several first place finishes at local and regional races and events. Recruiters chased her but she brushed them off, saying that she was simply waiting for the right opportunity. It was only coincidence, then, that she found this opportunity in the early winter, after she reached the age of twenty. At twenty, she began training for the Olympics.

Finally, Asazuki Kousuke, the last (and oldest) of the few remaining Blade Children, really hadn't thought about it at all. He'd thrown himself headlong into school, finishing Tsukiomi and enrolling in university with the intention of graduating early. In his first year, he'd pursued everything from languages to education to mathematics, only to finally settle on law as his career of choice. His instructors were baffled by his eagerness to learn, and also by just how quickly he _did_ learn. When he reached twenty, it was before the others; he was elbows-deep in homework at the time and laughed off the idea that he would die. He lived - and they all lived.

By the time they'd all made it past the age the Blade Children were never supposed to see, Kousuke was on the far end of twenty and sprinting toward twenty-one. By this time, armed with the knowledge that they'd all more than likely die of old age than cursed blood creeping through their veins, he'd begun to think about things he wanted. Not material things - but things that he wanted out of life, things he wanted to experience, now that he could. It was a strange feeling, being free to do as he pleased. He guessed it was the same for the others. It was almost ... normal.

At twenty years and nine months, Kousuke decided on a wish - one thing, one simple thing, that he wanted. He lived, of course, with the knowledge that he'd done some awful things in the past, harmed more people than he cared to admit, and that such a grim past wouldn't allow him to be too selfish ... but nonetheless, he felt entitled to just one wish.

Before this, he found out that the others had wishes of their own. It was if, all at once, they'd decided on them.

* * *

Eyes was first.

"A piano teacher... ?"

"Yes." The pianist threaded his long fingers together, his blue eyes serious behind a pair of wire-rimmed frames. "I've decided to stop touring, for now. I'll give lessons to children and adults."

"Eh, that will be expensive..."

"The lessons will be free."

"What? Really?"

"I have the luxury of being able to live off my earnings for quite some time." He smiled thinly. "There is something I feel I must do. I will not always be... alive, of course. So, to be able to spread my love of music to others... that is my wish."

Kousuke looked into his cup of black coffee, frowning slightly as he took in the younger man's words. Eyes said nothing else as the silence settled between them, only reaching for his own cup of tea. Across from them, in the kitchen where they sat, Ryouko was putting dishes into cabinets, a pensive look on her face. She'd heard everything, but had said nothing, only listened to their conversation for the last few minutes. It was late, probably too late to be sitting at a kitchen table talking about the future (especially when Kousuke had an exam the next morning), but Eyes had insisted on this. And...

"Wait." The redhead looked up. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Maybe you need a piano lesson, Kousuke." Ryouko laughed from across the room. "Right?"

Eyes smiled again, the action finally looking almost natural on his usually tense face. "No. That is not it. I simply wanted to share."

"But..."

"I think it is important that we have dreams." He leaned back in his chair, his tea held halfway to his mouth. "While we are still able to decide on our futures, like this ... we should aim for those things we once thought impossible."

Kousuke pressed his lips together, and as if answering the question Eyes hadn't asked, looked to where Ryouko stood in front of their shared kitchen sink. The white-haired man saw this and smiled into his tea, saying nothing else.

* * *

Rio came soon after.

"Nee, Kousuke-kun... I think I'm going to stay here for a while."

"Where is "here" this month?" The redhead cradled his cell phone against one shoulder, both hands busy with the tie he was looping around the collar of a shirt. He had an interview in an hour for an internship; Rio had called him while he was getting dressed. "Weren't you in the jungle the last time you called?"

"Peru. You're really bad at geography..."

"It's all the same to me, if it's not Japan." He grinned into the mirror he stood in front of, trying to fasten his tie. "So, where is it?"

"Saudi Arabia." She sighed, the action sending a crackle of static across the connection and into Kousuke's ear. "Unbelievably... the National Guard offered me a permanent position developing weapons and defense technology, and there are some really advanced pieces of equipment here, and they're all exported to governments around the world, so - "

"That's important, isn't it?"

"Very important." Her voice softened. "I'm not really in a position to say no..."

" ... are they pressuring you into - "

"No, not like _that_, Kousuke-kun. But it's something that ... I think I really want to do. It's _exactly_ what I want to do."

He paused in the action of knotting his tie, thinking, and for a moment they were both silent. Finally he shrugged, lifting one hand to support the phone against his ear. "If that's what makes Rio happy, then ... you should do it, right?"

"Right." She laughed suddenly. "It's really simple, isn't it?"

"Ah." He grinned again, wider this time. "Just don't blow yourself up. I won't be around to visit you in the hospital if you do."

"Hauuuu..."

* * *

Ryouko - and Kousuke, by certain circumstances - followed about a month later.

"Kousuke."

"Hm?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words didn't register at first; when they did, the redhead's eyes snapped up, out of the book he'd been buried in, to the figure of a very pale brunette in the doorway of his bedroom. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, at a complete loss for words perhaps for the first time in his almost twenty-one years of living.

"Are," he began, and then had to swallow before he could even speak properly, "are you sure?"

"I took three tests." She clasped her hands together and looked at them instead of him. "And it's been a few months since I had ... anything. So, yes. I'm sure."

He stared at her. "Oh."

The silence hung heavy in the room between them for a long, antagonizing moment, until finally he set down the book on his futon and stood, pacing slowly to where she stood in the doorframe. He stopped before he reached her, unsure, wondering if she would kick him or throw things at him or start screaming about how he'd ruined her career. "Ryouko," he began, cautiously, "it was an accident - so if you don't want to - "

"I want to keep it."

"You - really?"

"Yes." She nodded once, resolutely, and then lifted her eyes to his. "I want this."

"I thought you wanted to race in the Olympics?" He cringed; the qualifiers were only a few weeks away. "I know you wanted to keep running..."

"I did." She reached for him, grasping for his hands, and sighed heavily as her skin met his. "But now I want this."

"What will you ... " He searched for the words he needed, his progress delayed by shock. "What will we do, now?"

"Idiot. What do you think we'll do?" A smile crept onto her lips. "We'll have a baby. A family."

"A family? You and me?"

"Yes."

All Kousuke could think to say then, to that remark, was "wow."

And then, finally, he knew what his own wish was.

* * *

The Blade Children had their own ways of doing things. You couldn't argue with them; one felt they'd either laugh you out of the room or threaten you with bodily harm, depending on the situation and their moods at the time. This went double, as it turned out, for a Blade Child who was hormonal, several months pregnant, and missing the Olympics thanks to (as she none-too-delicately phrased it) her partner's inability to use a condom.

They held the wedding in early spring. It was sunny and unseasonably warm, and because of this they decided to have it outside. They skipped the temples and churches, neither of which suited them; Ryouko insisted on a small ceremony with a priest that Eyes knew, no music and no festivities. Kousuke obeyed her requests with a smile, if only because he knew he was lucky to be having a wedding at all. If she'd had her way, the way she'd wanted it when he'd proposed to her the day after finding out she was expecting...

_Ryouko. Marry me._

_Only if you don't make me wear a dress._

He didn't make her wear a dress, but she'd found that it was more comfortable, anyway.

They gathered on a grassy field not too far from Kanone and Hizumi's graves, just so they could feel that they were invited, too. Kousuke wore a new suit but skipped the tie (which he couldn't get the hang of anyway). Eyes wore a tuxedo; Kirie stood beside him in a black dress she swore she hadn't worn to match. No one believed her, of course. Kiyotaka and Madoka came by on their lunch break. Ayumu had been stealthily removed from the hospital in his wheelchair by a familiar-looking woman with smiling brown eyes and golden hair. Rio flew in from Saudi Arabia to act as the flower girl, scattering petals about in the grass as Ryouko walked behind her, suppressing a laugh at the whole situation. Her dress wasn't white and it wasn't even for a wedding, but no one seemed to mind.

The ceremony was short: a few words were said, rings were exchanged, they kissed and Ryouko begrudgingly allowed herself to cry at the whole thing. She blamed it on hormones but no one believed her, either. At the end of it all, she became Asazuki Ryouko. Everyone applauded, Kousuke cracked a few jokes that Rio and Ryouko alternately kicked him in the shin for, and Kiyotaka surprised them with a picnic lunch he'd hastily prepared that morning.

They sat on the grass together to eat their lunches, their little group of nine (eleven in spirit), and somehow everything seemed right with the world. Through thick and thin they had survived, fought against the odds and came out on the other side, together. These children who had never dreamed, never hoped, and never had a wish in their hearts, had lived. And not only that: they were thriving. With luck, they would continue to thrive for months and years and decades to come.

And whatever they wished for, they would have.

* * *

_owari._


End file.
